Sons Of Anarchy: Checkmate
by FearTheMayhem
Summary: With the release of Clay Morrow and fellow members, the members of SAMCRO are looking forward to some peace and quiet. The Angels Of Mercy MC have other plans.
1. Chapter 1

Author Notes

This fiction will be co written by JJ and Crystal.

We have created Original Characters and a MC The Angels Of Mercy Motorcycle Club (AOM MC)

The setting for the story is just as Season Four starts with most of the SOA being released from Stockton prison and from there we will be changing the storyline and bringing in an AU spin.

**_Dramatis Personae_**

**_Angels Of Mercy MC New York_**

Sal Angelino (Club President)

**_Angels Of Mercy Charming_**

Angel Angelino (President)

Adam 'crash' Valenteen (Vice President)

Thomas 'Mossie' Byrne (Sgt At Arms)

Jimmy 'Shades' Varron (Treasurer)

John 'Smack' Doolin (Secretary)

Gino 'Ginger' Nicoletti (Road Captain)

**_ONE_**

The sound of the Harley Davidson motorcycles filled the air; the revving of each engine created a sweet harmonious song. They were close. In the centre of peaceful downtown Charming, California, a blockade of motorcycles covered the width of the entire street. The scene was intimidating to say the least. Atop of each of the custom bikes sat a man with a face devoid of any emotion, and stone cold eyes which stared straight ahead. There was only one figure in the crowd who's features, and expression differed, she sat on her bike with her long dark hair flowing freely, and while her eyes were a deep intense blue, they too were as stone cold as the men's, a sly smirk was spread across her full lips . All the men and the woman remained seated on their motorcycles, except for one. He stood at a good five paces before the bikes, hands at his side, feet shoulder width apart, his long shoulder length salt and pepper hair pulled back into a neat ponytail. While it was clear he was one of the older men in the blockade, he was truly the most intimidating man present.

His stature was very tall standing at least 6'2", broad shoulders, and his build was solid muscle. While his face was handsome with well defined chiselled features, like the others behind him, his eyes, which were almost black, were stone cold, and no emotion was present. He stood, just waiting for the approaching motorcycles to arrive.

Clarence 'Clay' Morrow led the pack of motorcycles as they rode in formation. Being the president of the Sons Of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, gave him one of the two front spots. The other was taken by Jackson 'Jax' Teller, Clay's number two, his Vice President, and also his step son. They had just completed a fourteen month stretch in Stockton State Penitentiary for gun running charges. They served time with other members of the crew. Filip 'Chibs' Telford and Harry 'Opie' Winston remained on the outside running SAMCRO in their absence. Opie and Chibs had met their brothers earlier that day at the prison gates, with a few club prospects. The prospects had served their purpose riding the bikes to Stockton for Clay and the others. Now they rode in the black unmarked vans which followed behind, only patched SAMCRO members rode the Harleys as they sped towards Charming. They turned the corner and saw the blockade halfway down the street. Morrow and Teller eyed each other quickly then turned their focus back toward the blockade, they were fast approaching.

The riders of the blockade all sat up straight at the sight of the bikes entering the street. The man standing raised his massive arms, clasped his hands together and then cracked his knuckles. He tilted his head from side to side; the sound of cracking could be heard again. Sal 'Skull' Angelino watched the bikes approach, and for a moment it looked like they were going to attempt to ram their way through, but at the last minute the bikes started to slow and finally came to a stop.

As the bikes approached Clay could make out Sal Angelino was the man who stood in the road. Dread filled his very being; the Skull didn't just call around for coffee and a chat. Fuck, the Skull didn't set road blocks up unless he wanted to guarantee that his message was heard. Clay stopped his bike at roughly five paces from where the man stood. He shut down the engine, removed his black helmet, and just sat on his motorcycle starring at the welcome committee.

"Wait here son" he commanded looking over at Jax. Clay could tell by the scowl on his face Jax wasn't pleased to be remaining behind, but shit the last thing he needed was him up in Sal's fucking face. Plus he saw her in the crowd, why Sal couldn't leave the damn bitch at home where she belonged was beyond him.

Clay took a quick body count and saw that with the prospects in the van, he had more guys than Sal, but really what Clay had were just numbers, AOM guys were tough. Shit some of them made even Tig and Happy look like a couple of God damned day care workers. Even with fewer men, Sal still outnumbered. Realizing he had already sat on his biker longer than he should he slowly got off and then walked the five paces towards Sal. Those five paces felt like walking the green mile for Clay. He stood before Sal, removed his sunglasses and looked the man dead in the eye.

"Sal, it's good to see you, I didn't expect you to travel all this way to welcome me home." Clay gave the man a hearty smile as he attempted what he knew was a feeble joke.

Sal stood watching Clay, his face unchanged in appearance, not even a hint of amusement at Clay's attempt at humour. Sal had a sense of humour, a good one, but only at the right time, with the right people, and this was neither.

"Clay, it's been a long time. I can assure you we are not here to welcome you home in that manner. We don't do the meet, and greet festivities. " Sal turned gesturing to his guys, then turned back to face Clay. "I thought it better we come face to face like this than at your clubhouse. I won't keep you long, I'm sure you want to go fuck your _wife._" Clay's face dropped for a moment he knew Sal was taking a dig at him. "I'm moving a charter into Charming, my daughter Angel, will be president. This is a heads up, for old time's sake" Sal looked into Clay's eyes as he spoke the words.

At first Clay couldn't form any words, which for him was both unusual, and on this occasion lucky, rash words at a time like this could land him in a lot of trouble. Finally the words came.

"Sal, Charming isn't really big enough for two MCs, there ain't enough opportunity for both of us. We've pretty much stamped out drugs and prostitution, the real action is guns, and we deal with Irish. Stockton, Oakland maybe, you'd have more business opportunity there brother." Clays throat went dry as he finished the words knowing Sal was a non-negotiator.

Sal raised his brow and a deep laugh bellowed out, the sound echoing through the small downtown street. He turned towards his guys, and they all started to laugh too. When he turned back to face Clay his laugh was gone and his face was as hard as stone.

"No current drug dealers, means no competition. No prostitutes mean no pimps to remove. Clay, you've created the perfect open market for us. We don't need to go to war with anyone in order to take their turf." Sal nodded his head "There's plenty of opportunity, _brother."_

Clay watched the bikers all laughing and felt the rage building in the pit of his stomach. They were standing on the streets of Downtown Charming in SAMCRO territory making them look like fucking fools. Not to mention his own crew behind him were all looking to see how he would handle this situation. Clay and the MC had been through too much shit, and even though this was Sal Angelino standing in front of him he wasn't going to tolerate it a moment longer.

"You're _forgetting _about the Sons Of Anarchy. We _won't _allow this to happen. We've fought hard to keep Charming clean, earn respect, and this is our _turf_." Clay straightened his stance, and clenched his large fists together as he spoke the words.

Sal didn't react immediately, and Clay was unsure if he was perhaps considering the words he just spoke, or if the silence meant they were all screwed. Finally after what seemed like eternity Sal stepped closer to Clay and they were face to face.

"Clay, if you're telling me that you _want_ a war." Sal paused for a moment giving Clay a look of disapproval, "I can give you a war of the likes that your MC has never seen. Understand this it won't be some long drawn out shit, it will be swift, bloody, and you won't have a chance in hell of winning." Sal clapped his hands.

All around the group of biker's windows started opening in the buildings, and various weapons, ranging from hand guns, assault rifles even sniper rifles were visible, all being aimed at the SOA bikers.

"I can pretty much wipe you all out right now, Clay. I haven't come here to ask for permission, or to negotiate terms. I am Sal Angelino, I don't ask, or negotiate, _ever_. I've come here today to inform you what _will_ be happening. The Angels Of Mercy have buried bigger MC's than the Sons Of Anarchy Clay, you know this. Don't act fucking stupid. Killing you all here, right now would be simple, none of you are armed, couldn't risk that being fresh out of prison, right?" Sal laughed at him as if he were a pathetic individual. "Clay you should be grateful I don't see you as a big enough threat to concern myself with." Sal smiled then turned his back on Clay as if he were nothing, and slowly walked the five paces towards his custom built bike, as he motioned for his crew to start their engines. They quickly disappeared into the distance.

The rest of the ride to Teller-Morrow Automotive was uneventful, the bikes pulling onto the forecourt and then lining up in their parking spots. Gemma Teller-Morrow and Tara Knowles watched the bikes park up, both with huge smiles on their faces. Gemma married to Clay and Tara the girlfriend of Jax, the men had been missed.

The reunion was quick, with Jax meeting his son, Thomas for the first time, who perhaps he thought was the luckiest of them all, unaware of the storms on the horizons. He heard Abel's laugh reached down to hoist him up in his arms, and finally made his way Tara giving her a kiss. Their lips barely had time to meet before his mother Gemma barged between them demanding a hug, once satisfied she turned to Clay, and finally made rounds to greet the other men. Clay announced an emergency meeting to be held in the Chapel, immediately. Barely out of jail two damn hours and already there was not time for a reunion that each of them needed. Tig grumbled slightly as he put his cigarette out, and Clay eyed him, adding that dick needs could, and would wait. The patched members walked through the clubhouse doors and into the room they all knew as the Chapel. Each taking their seats around the large Red Wood table, which had the Reaper carved into it. Jax took his seat to the left of Clay for the first time in fourteen months.

He reached out touching the bit of carved wood in front of him with his finger tips, before lighting a cigarette, and inhaling deeply. This was not the reunion he had envisioned all those months he was in the Stockton, but he imagined it wasn't the reunion any of the other members had envisioned either, Clay included. Jesus Christ, he thought if it wasn't always something, one fire stomped out to simply have another blaze up.

Clay sat at the head of the table, picking up the gavel and folding his large fingers around it which ached in protest. He refused to show the club members he was in any pain as he slammed it down loudly on the wood calling the meeting to order. Once he sat the gavel back upon the table he looked first at Chibs, then at Opie.

"There anything you guys want to say, has there been any AOM presence while we were inside?" The irritation was evident in his voice as he spoke. He didn't like to be caught with his pants down around his ankles, especially in the middle of his town.

Chibs and Opie looked at each other before finally Chibs spoke up.

"Aye, we thought it was nothing, just a group of them passing through, we didn't see them coming at us like this" The Scot said looking at his President who was glaring at the table. He would have felt better if they had made eye contact as he spoke the words.

Clay nodded his head and kept his vision on the table for the time being. Jax looked around the room acknowledging each of the members with eye contact before speaking.

"We _need_ to try and arrange a sit down, we _can't_ just allow them to roll on into Charming and start dealing drugs and pussy on the streets."

There were many nods of agreement around the table as Jax finished his words. Even though he was young Jax had earned the respect of his brothers. Many faces were looking to the head of the table for the answers. Clay had been President since John Teller, Jax's father, died unexpectedly in a biking accident. He'd seen many troubles, and got the club through them all. Clay knew all heads were turning to him for answers, but he continued to sit silently, deep in thought about The Angels Of Mercy, he knew this was like no threat they had ever faced before. Clay definitely wasn't clueless in regards to Sal, and knew exactly what he was capable of. For the first time Sons of Anarchy were outmanned, outgunned, and shit out of luck. Clay knew Jax was right, a sit down was needed, and one of the few options that they had, but Clay also knew the chances were slim that anything productive would come from the meeting. Once Sal Angelino made his mind up, the devil himself couldn't change it, and the devil himself also knew to get the fuck out of the way.

"Maybe it won't be too bad, I mean he's letting a chick run the charter." Alex 'Tig' Trager, Sgt At Arms, spoke up. "I mean really guys a chick? Shit, everyone knows a chick can't run an MC. Best she sticks to something she does know like maybe sucking a dick." He chuckled along with a few others, and took a long drag of his cigarette before exhaling the smoke into the air.

Jax raised his brow and smirked at Tig's comment.

"Good luck trying to deal with Angel on a _good_ day brother, when period week arrives every month." Jax let out a whistle "Believe me; you _don't _want to be around her."

Tig looked over at Jax eyeing him curiously. "You seem to know her pretty well, _brother._" He locked eyes with Jax, arching his brow waiting for further explanation.

Jax nodded and reached over to take a drag of his own cigarette before sharing his information on Angel with his brothers. Clay rolled his eyes, and shook his head as Jax began his stroll down memory lane.

"I had a thing with her when I was younger, at a bike rally, seen her fuck some girl up just for commenting that I looked good. When Angel sees something as hers brother, you _don't _take it, fuck with it, look at it, or anything else she don't want you doing with it." Jax looked Tig square in the eyes, "Oh, and brother that was just when we were younger. That crew of his, shit they all dote on her. She's like some kind of damn _Princess _as far as they're concerned." Jax sat back in his seat sighing deeply.

Opie spoke up next, "Jax is right that crew has raised her. I remember Angel from that rally." He looked over at Jax briefly before continuing, "Word on the street is she put rounds in a few men's head about 5 -6 years back. Pulled the trigger like a damn man, and didn't even flinch, and I hear the bitch has been on a killing spree ever since. Some kind of sick fun for her," Opie sat back shaking his head as he stroked his long beard.

The room went silent for a few minutes while everyone took in the information they had just heard. This really wasn't the typical behaviour they were used to dealing with from a woman. A couple of members thought maybe Jax should talk with her, since they had a history together. A few however thought that history could possibly make matters worse, and felt Jax should just stay away. The fact remained that this _chick_ seemed like bad news. If she was anything like her father, which from Opie's and Jax's brief account, it sounded like she might be following those footsteps, Charming was in for one hell of a bumpy ride. Clay finally broke the silence.

"Brothers, we have only _two_ choices here. One, we just let them into Charming and try to keep out of their way" He glanced around, and was met with a lot of unhappy faces. "Two we go to war and stop them from coming here" Again he looked around observing his brothers.

"We'd lose brother, we don't have the resources" Bobby Munson, one of Clay's trusted advisors and club secretary spoke up.

Clay looked at him and slowly nodded he knew this comment was most likely true.

"You may be right, but I think we have to at least try" Clay responded realizing as he spoke the words, the outcome of this battle was probably already predetermined.

Happy sat in his seat, moving the cocktail stick around his teeth with his tongue. He looked at Clay he wasn't one bit intimidated by Sal or his prissy ass daughter.

"The Nomads, I was a Nomad for a long time, some of those guys are crazy, if we bring _them_ to Charming that would be a good boost for the fight."

Heads nodded around the table, including Clay's.

"Well if the vote goes that way, I'll make some calls. Now we need to vote this shit. Going to war against the Angels Of Mercy, Yea or Nay? I vote yea." Clay told the table then glanced to the right at Tig.

Tig sat there thinking it over for a moment, still trying to digest the fact a fucking chick was going to run an MC. He could feel his dick growing hard with anticipation of the fun he would have teaching Angel 'Princess' Angelino that she should set her aspirations a little lower like say around his crotch.

"Yeah"

Happy looked around the table before making his decision, after a moment nodding his head. The old man and his daughter wanted a fight he'd carve them up for dinner.

"Yeeaahh"

Opie took no time to think immediately he slammed his hand onto the tabletop.

"Yeah"

Being the newest member to the table Kozik thought it best to follow the current trend being set.

"Yeah"

The eyes in the room fell on the other founding member at the table, Piney, Opie's father, he slowly shook his head.

"I won't sign our death warrants, No."

Clay nodded his head, he anticipated this from Piney. Juice looked into Piney's eyes as he said no, and then looked back toward Clay.

"Yes"

This vote gained the majority, but the rule was every man is entitled to his vote, so the voting continued until the end. Chibs shook his head.

"Piney's right, this is fuckin' madness, no" he sighed knowing that at this stage his vote meant shit.

Bobby placed a hand on Chibs shoulder, and then turned his gaze towards Clay.

"Chibs is right, it is madness brother, but allowing them to come without putting up a fight, that's crazy, yeah."

Jax sat for a moment, his face sombre; he glanced around the room, locking eyes with Opie. Since Donnas' death he seemed hell bent on self destruction. Jax felt war was the wrong answer; he had Tara and two sons to take care of. He briefly thought about the many promises made to Tara to get out of the life, a war was not the way to do that.

"No, this _is_ a mistake brothers, I hope you're all prepared for this table to _lose_ numbers"


	2. Chapter 2

Author Note

Feel free to R&R

**_Two_**

The tall black man dropped the box onto the desk before glancing around the room. This was to be his office for the foreseeable future. He had been briefed on the Local Biker gang, The Sons of Anarchy. The previous chief, it was suspected, had been in their pockets, turning a blind eye to a lot of their shit. Well now, there was a new Sheriff in town, Lieutenant Eli Roosevelt. He was considered an expert when it came to tackling gangs; he had a remarkable track record, and wasn't on anyone's payroll.

He removed a small pocket knife and carefully ran it beneath the tape keeping the top of the box closed. He lifted the flaps of the box and the first thing he removed was the photo of his wife. He looked at the picture for a moment; a smile crossing his face, then placed the photo on the desk. He carried on removing items from the box, mainly a load of paperwork, which he found new homes for. He didn't like mess in his office, never had. Once the box was completely empty he placed in against the wall next to the door and then took a seat in the chair at the desk. He looked around the room again. Simple but effective for his needs, he didn't plan on spending too much time in the room. He glanced up at the clock above the door, 1.30pm, time for lunch.

Roosevelt drove through Charming to a quiet diner, just down the street from TM; he ordered a cheeseburger, fries and a large coffee. He took a window booth and looked out into the street. There were cars coming and going from TM, plus a couple of motorcycles. He could tell from the cuts that these guys were members of SAMCRO. The waitress, a small blonde girl with her hair in a pony tail, brought the food over and placed it before him. Roosevelt figured she must have lost the smile along the way from the kitchen as it clearly wasn't on her face. He looked at the food and shrugged, he'd seen better, but he was sure he'd of eaten worse in the past.

The junk yard, where cars came when they died, Marcus Alverez, President of the Mayans Motorcycle Club stood next to his bike with his guys waiting for their guest. Alverez saw a big payday from this meeting, well, as long as SAMCRO played along. He glanced across at his VP before looking at his watch. The black SUV with its tinted windows rolled in, precisely on time. The vehicle slowly approached and then stopped before the bikers. Two men exited from the rear, holding AK47s, two men exited from the front, holding no weapons at all. Those men were Romero 'Romeo' Parada and Luis Torres, both high ranking members of the Galindo Cartel. The men paused for a moment, and looked around at the bikers assembled, glanced at each other, and then confidently moved forward, towards Alverez and his guys.

Alverez placed his hand out toward Parada.

"Thank you for coming here today, it means a lot ese," He spoke the words in a confident, yet respectful tone.

Parada looked at the outstretched hand, then shook it firmly, nodded his head, glanced back at Torres and allowed his number two to speak.

"How could we not Marcus, you made it sound like Christmas," Torres looked into the bikers' eyes.

Alverez nodded and smiled, then started to laugh.

"Ese what I'm proposing, is _much_ better than Christmas, now, shall we talk inside the office, it's more comfortable in there" Alverez gestured toward the small building in the centre of the yard.

Parada looked back at his two men, the taller of the two nodded, the sign that he didn't spot any snipers. Parada wasn't really worried about an attack today, no biker club had the muscle to go to war against the Cartel, well there except one, but they were a long way from California. Parada took the lead and walked toward the small building; he stood at the door and allowed Alverez to lead the way inside. The two men with AKs waited outside, as did all the Mayans except the VP. The office contained a desk, which had four chairs positioned next to it, two on either side. Parada nodded and smirked slightly, it appeared Alverez was a little organised, which surprised him. He half expected the meeting to take place outside, on foot, with no comforts at all. When the men were seated they all glanced at one another before finally Alverez broke the silence.

"Ok here is the deal, word on the street is that the Cartel could use some pretty high standards of firepower" Parada's full attention was gained, _word on the street._ "Well I may be able to help you out with that." Alverez looked at his visitors, trying to figure out if he'd opened with the correct approach.

"You believe everything you _hear_ on the street?" Parada asked.

Alverez slowly shook his head indicating no.

"Not everything ese, but this" He shrugged "This I did. You're at war with the Lobos Sonora Cartel ese, and word is that the Chinese are supplying them with some pretty hot firepower." Alverez paused allowing this to sink in. After a moment he resumed his speech. "We get guns from the Sons Of Anarchy Motorcycle Club, SAMCRO. They get supplied by the Irish. Now if you were to get supplied by SAMCRO, I'm sure they could get their hands on some nice firepower."

Parada sat in his chair, face expressionless, thinking this over. It sounded good, a new guns supplier, higher quality of weapons, what he couldn't see was the Mayan angle.

"What's in this for you Marcus?"

Alverez smiled, he wanted to hear this question, and he wanted to answer it too.

"You make SAMCRO an offer to smuggle Cocaine for you. They are anti drugs, but they also have money problems. I think they will take the deal. We then offer SAMCRO to _help_ protect the cocaine shipments, putting money in _Mayan_ pockets. Maybe then also we can get some kind of deal, a discounted rate, for cocaine from the cartel, like an employee discount" Alverez watched Parada closely

"I'm sure a deal could be agreed, but first we need to meet with SAMCRO, you're placing a lot of faith in their financial problems. I'll make you a deal Marcus. Set a meet with SAMCRO, if they can supply weapons to us, the cartel with give you either a finder's fee, or a one year discount on cocaine. If they agree to run the cocaine for us, the Mayans will have their discount for the duration of our business with SAMCRO" it was Parada's turn to watch Alverez.

Alverez looked at his VP, both men whispered amongst themselves then Alverez turned his head back toward Parada. He nodded then placed his hand out to shake on the deal

"I'll call Clay, arrange the meet" Alverez said as he shook Parada's hand.

Lost in the ride she had fallen behind the sleek black Harley in front of her. Angel could have caught up easily with just a twist of the throttle with her black leather gloved hand, but instead she decided to take a moment to admire her father, Sal Angelino. Despite the fact he was advancing in age he was still a solid brick house of muscle, his skin as toned as it had been when he was in his younger years, his complexion a beautiful olive color that gave him the look of a year round tan. His black Harley with its large tires, and chrome accenting cruised along the highway effortlessly at a high speed. The bike was like Sal, commanding, bold, and sexy without the need of unnecessary frills.

Angel finally hit the throttle of her own Harley, a smaller version of her fathers, to catch up. She handled a bike as well as any man in the club, actually better than some. When Angel had been a little girl her place had been on the back of her father's bike. Once she was old enough to learn though Sal had taught her to ride. She glanced over at him as she recalled the childhood memories with a smile, and gave him a nod as they rode side by side. He returned the smile nodding back at her, before both looked straight ahead again, accelerating the bikes simultaneously. Angel loved him, and could see herself with a man like her father. Hell, if Sal weren't her father she'd fuck him. A wry smile crossed her mouth as she thought about how a lot of people would run to church for confession at the thoughts that rolled into her mind at times. Fuck, it was the truth though, ain't no reason to confess what is true, she thought to herself. As far as Angel was concerned she was never going to find a man that measured up to her Daddy O'.

Sal looked over at his daughter, Angel, as they rode along the highway on the outskirts of Charming, towards the new building, and warehouses he had purchased as a surprise. The property was going to be AOM Charming headquarters, and no expense would be spared to make it as grand as the compound outside of New York. He loved his daughter. She was the spitting image of her mother, flawless porcelain skin, slender yet full figured in all the right places, intense blue eyes, full cherry colored lips, and jet black hair. Her mother had been a beautiful woman, and he was glad Angel reflected that beauty. It was one of the main reasons he never allowed Angel to be housed anywhere, but in the MC compound with him. Sal would never admit it to another living soul, but looking at her reminded him that time in his life had been real. He had received a lot of mumbled criticism from other MC's for having her by his side, but he didn't give a shit. Second reason Sal was a firm believer that a person should live in the life they decided for themselves with pride. He had given Angel choices, opportunities to distance herself from the MC, but still she came back time after time. Like him it was in her blood. His daughters name was Angel, but she was a killer, just like her old man. For a moment he felt a tinge of guilt, and wondered what her mother would think. Her mother, Jesus Christ, he allowed his mind to momentarily drift to the past, to memories of her, something he didn't do on many occasions.

Rebecca Martin's smile alone could light up the darkest room, she was truly an Angel. Under normal circumstances she never would have even met a man like Sal, he knew that fate, and her girlfriend insisting she attend a rally had pulled them together. He had never had problems attracting the ladies, hell he could walk into a room, and panties would fall to the floor. When he saw her though Sal knew what it meant to be pussy whipped. Becca hadn't made it easy on him at first, and had been one tough cookie to crack not giving an inch. Still though he was the 'Skull' and he wasn't going to walk away without the girl. He succeeded, even though a few of his crew bet against him. Stupid Mother Fuckers Sal thought should have known better than to bet against him. Despite the fact her parents disowned her she ended up on the back of his bike. He married her immediately, didn't see any reason in waiting when he knew she was it. His Becca had brought a peace into his personal life he had never known before. Sal was still one mean Son of a Bitch, putting anyone in the ground if they blocked the way, but when it was just them he was different.

They had been together about five years when Becca came into his clubhouse office announcing she was pregnant. Sal never had a doubt the child she carried would be a son. Sal toasted the birth of the future MC legion with his crew later, and sat back comfortably smoking a cigar. His legacy was secure, his club one of the top, a woman in his bed he loved, Sal Angelino was the master of his universe. Fate, he soon discovered was one cruel mother fucker.

The biggest fear with having Becca in his life had always been another crew seeking retaliation. To ensure that never happened Sal took every measure humanly possible to make sure she was well protected. Any member of the crew was willing, and prepared to lay their life down for her at anytime, just as they were for Angel. Word was also spread through the MC world that if any crew ever dared he would wipe their lousy existence off the face of the mother fucking earth. No one dared they knew Skull meant business.

In the end though Sal had no control over certain matters, a deep frown creased the corners of his mouth as he remembered the bright red blood that had already permanently stained the white tile floors of the bathroom suite. She never opened her eyes as he screamed for help. Sal had never recalled screaming before in his entire life for help. He was normally the person people called out to when they needed help. The doctors said it was as just a rare occurrence that killed his Becca, some stupid bullshit about the placenta detaching unexpectedly, which caused mass hemorrhaging. They went on to tell him the only reason his daughter had survived was the fact she was due to be born within just a couple of weeks. If he had been even minutes later both the child and mother would have perished. A fucking daughter, Sal would have been lying if he said he didn't feel somewhat bitter at the word when the Doctors told him the child was female. When he laid eyes on her though, she had him whipped instantly just as her mother had. The months that followed were hard, but the MC pulled together all taking a hand in raising her. He looked over at her once more, and then glanced ahead, he wouldn't trade Angel for ten sons.

Angel could feel her father's eyes on her and glanced back over at him just as his gaze was returning forward. She knew he was thinking about her mother by the look on his face, it wasn't as stone cold when he thought of that time of his life. Angel knew from everyone in the MC, and the pictures by her bedside that she was her mother made over. Sal had loved her mother, and never replaced her with another woman. He wasn't celibate by any means his bedroom door reminded Angel of one of those revolving ones at a department store. Despite some of the best efforts though, that revolving door always hit their ass on the way out if they attempted to stay to long. Angel wasn't shy either and made sure the stupid bimbos knew if they overstepped their bounds she would cut them up. Sal was her father, and no MC bimbo was going to take him away from her. Only once since her mother had a bimbo distracted her father's attention for any length of time, and it had cost her dearly. It had also cost Angel as well. They rode swiftly on the winding road leaning into the turns in almost perfect unison. Angel thought of that time in their lives, it was the first, and last time she had ever known the emotion called fear.

The summer prior to her graduation from college, which was her father's idea not hers, Angel had come home to spend time at the MC. It was a strange summer though with rival gang tension, her father bedding a stupid bimbo, and engaging in more than tactical training with 'Crash.' Her father didn't have a whole lot of rules, but one was no eating from the table he called it. Sal felt it would be extremely distracting, and unsafe for Angel to ever be involved with any man that was sitting around his table. So, when he had insisted 'Crash' accompany her that summer due to the tension he was unaware they were involved. The distraction along with Sal's head being buried in pussy created an open window for the rival gang to kidnap Angel. Three bastards held her for several days taunting, and beating her. They even spit out the vile things they were going to do to her before she died over and over again. Finally the President of the club finally arrived and made the fatal mistake of deciding to rape Angel. That was the scene Sal, and his crew walked in on when rescuing his daughter and the man paid a very heavy price for the pussy he had just taken at force.

The remaining three were gathered up and taken back to the AOM compound. Angel remembered asking her father to watch their punishment. She could still see the look upon his face, and she thought he would send her away, but he agreed. Angel remembered grabbing the gun from his hand, and walking over putting rounds in each of the men's heads. Sure she had been trained to kill, but until that moment never had. Pulling the trigger on that gun felt good, it felt right, and unleashed darkness in her, she was never able to bridle again. As she listened to the engine of her Harley sing to her she realized she never tried to bridle it anyway. She loved what had been unleashed. She loved her fucking life. Her leathered gloved hand hit the throttle again, and she sped past her father playfully flipping him off. She knew he wouldn't be far behind her Sal didn't even tolerate his Angel being ahead of him.

Angel walked through the building located on the outskirts of Charming, sizing it up. She stopped in the middle of the large room which she felt would make a good common area for the MC crew to spend time when not handling AOM business. Crews needed to blow off a little steam, get drunk, laid, dick sucked, whatever the hell they needed. She reached in her pocket pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and placed one in her mouth, lighting it with her Zippo.

"What do you think, Princess?" Sal watched his daughter take in the surroundings, as he leaned up against the wall, smoking a cigar, the sweet smell permeating the area.

Angel took a slow drag of her cigarette, before a satisfied grin came across her face.

"I think it will work, Daddy O'." She winked at her father as she continued to walk throughout the large building that was at least triple the size of Teller-Morrow's club house.

Sal gave a deep chuckle at her response, and pushed himself off the wall walking over to his daughter, as he reached inside his leather cut, and handed her an envelope. Angel reached her hand out as he approached to take it from him. Even though they had ended human life, her hands were delicate in comparison to his. She quickly scanned over the papers that were inside.

"Fuck me, are you sure?" Angel arched her brow looking her father in eye, her left hand held the deed to the property they stood on. "You know Clay isn't going to go down without a fight, and there's fucking Teller." She locked her intense blue eyes with his equally intense black ones. Then she took a slow drag of her cigarette, her hand had a slight tremor to it, and she wished to fuck she had put that joint inside her leather before leaving town.

Sal eyed his daughter curiously as she took a drag of her cigarette. He knew the signs all too well, Angel needed a kill it had been over three weeks since she had blood on her hands. Since her kidnapping years back, and the killings that followed, she had a craving that needed to be fulfilled on a regular basis. He glanced at her as he extinguished his cigar on the concrete floor, crushing it with his black leather riding boot. Shit, he hoped it was just a little bloodshed she needed, and not some God damned poetry bullshit.

"They ain't shit. We have taken down bigger, and you know it." Sal spoke in his normal tone, but the words still echoed loudly throughout the hollow building. "You've put bullets in men's heads way tougher than Clay, and you have carved up poet, pussy ass mother fuckers like Teller for lunch." He eyed her closer. "Is it the fact you may have to put the poet pussy out of his misery, Princess? You remember girl you are AOM. No mercy."

Angel dropped her own cigarette to the ground stomping her black boot on top of it, and twisting like it was a bug she was killing, never taking her eyes off her father. Teller had been a long time ago and nothing but a big damn mistake anyway.

"If someone needs to be put in the ground, Daddy O', I will do it. I don't give a fuck if it's Teller, his Ol' lady, his kids, Clay, Gemma or any of those Mother Fuckers. No hesitation and no fucking mercy. So, why don't you cut the Ward Cleaver bullshit lecture, and let's look at the rest of the property you have purchased for me."

She smirked at him as the words crossed his lips. Angel knew if any of the men had ever dared speak with her father in the raw way they communicated, they would be picking their sorry ass up off the ground. Well, they would be picking their ass off the ground, if he didn't kill them.

"Reel in it in, Princess." Sal smirked back at his daughter as he placed his arm over her shoulder. Together they continued to survey the property. Yeah, he thought to himself better than a damn son.


	3. Chapter 3

Author Note

Feel free to R&R

**_Three_**

Jax kissed Tara softly on the lips, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist, then smiled as their eyes locked momentarily. He had missed her a great deal while serving time at Stockton. He glanced around the kitchen, the morning sun shining in through the window. She had questioned him about the immediate Chapel meeting the previous day, but he had brushed it off as typical club business. The last thing he wanted was to cause her unnecessary worry. Jax knew this was going against their promise to be honest, and open, but he hoped a resolution could be found, to prevent war. His sons entered his thoughts, no a war wasn't for a family man. Jesus Christ, he thought was that what he was a family man? Jax sighed deeply the constant turmoil and conflict always present, he wanted to be a family man, but he was an outlaw, it's what he did best. He loosened his hold on Tara's waist and then turned and poured a coffee.

"You want one babe?" he asked glancing back over his shoulder at her.

Tara smiled watching him pour the coffee she knew he was keeping something from her about the immediate Chapel meeting, but decided not to press the issue.

"Sure." She replied as she took a seat at the dining table forcing a bright smile upon her lips. Tara had missed Jax immensely while he was locked up, and the last thing she wanted was an argument to erupt.

Jax placed the cups down and as he leant to take a seat his mobile phone rang in his pocket. He stood straight and removed the phone looking at the screen, Clay. He sighed then looked apologetically into Tara's eyes.

"I'm sorry, I _need_ to take this," He pressed the answer button and walked from the room. "What's up?" He listened intently as Clay spoke on the other end. "When?" he asked, listening to the answer he ran his fingers through his air. "Yeah, I'm on my way," cutting the call off and heading back into the kitchen, brushing his lips against Tara's forehead. "Babe I need to go, gotta meet Clay."

Tara looked into his eyes and smiled hoping he couldn't see disappointed on her face.

"I've waited fourteen months, one more day won't hurt me, and I have some errands to run anyway."

Jax smiled and nodded. He grabbing up the keys to his bike from the kitchen counter, and headed for the front door.

Clay and Jax pulled into the junk yard on their Harleys. Both men had hoped that they could catch up with Alverez at a later date, they wanted to spend time with their women before this war started with AOM. Alverez stood next to the small office with just his VP, as promised. Things with the Mayans were on a good footing these days, and Clay didn't really expect to encounter any surprises. The two SOA outlaws parked their bikes and left their helmets on the handlebars. They both approached Alverez, and the Mayan greeted them warmly. He quickly embraced Clay and then Jax.

"It's good to see you out of Stockton in one piece," the statement was aimed at both men.

"Good to be out brother," Clay replied.

Alverez led the men into the building and each taking seats that had been occupied by visitors the previous day.

"Marcus we're glad to be catching up, but what's so important that this couldn't wait? I have a wife whose pussy needs constant attention to make up for the past fourteen months." Clay laughed loudly, he noticed out of the corner of his eye the look of disapproval on Jax's face, but chose to ignore it.

"Business Clay, and believe me, this is business you're _gonna_ want," Alverez replied.

Clay nodded his head, then pulled a cigar and lit it, breathing in the smoke deep, then tilting his head back and blowing the thick smoke into the air.

"Well let's hear it brother." He told Alverez.

Alverez began telling Clay about his meeting with the Galindo Cartel, explaining they were in the market for some pretty fancy firepower, and how he thought that with the Irish connection SOA could supply the cartel. Clay and Jax both looked at each other. Jax wasn't happy with this deal as he personally thought that the club needed to get out of guns. He wondered what would happen if they supplied the cartel and then decided to get out of guns. He didn't think this would end well. He discreetly shook his head, but again Clay ignored it.

"You know we'll have to take a vote, and then speak with the Irish, ultimately they get the final decision brother." Clay told Alverez.

"You let the Irish decide who you sell to Clay?" Alverez sounded shocked.

"Brother, they don't want the usual AKs or KG9s, they want special firepower, and we'd need to order that from the Irish." Clay rubbed his chin, "Naturally they'll want to know who we're supplying that shit to."

Alverez looked at his VP before letting out a deep sigh, this isn't how he expected shit to go down.

"Clay I thought you just buy from them, sell to whoever you want." Alverez said.

"Look, the _last_ thing the Irish want is us selling to their competition, it wouldn't go down too well. The firepower the Cartel want is going to draw questions from the Irish, this _isn't _like shopping at Best Buy brother." Jax spoke up his tone irritated.

Clay shot Jax a look of disapproval, but like his Stepfather he chose to ignore the look. He wasn't stupid about Clay's end game, he needed this deal, he was thinking of stepping down as President, and wanted to the leave the club set for retirement. This deal equalled a lot of money, which equalled a life away from Charming for himself and Gemma. Clay looked at Alverez a huge greedy grin upon his face.

"I'll arrange a club meeting, and then if the vote goes in favour of the deal, I'll call the Irish." He smirked. "I have a _special_ relationship with Galen O'Shay, I don't see there being a problem." Clay puffed on his cigar again.

Alverez looked from Clay, then to Jax. He slowly nodded his head, standing up from the table.

"I guess we'll wait to hear from you then Clay." He outstretched his hand.

Clay and Jax stood in unison, both shaking Alverez's hand before following him outside. Once outside Alverez gently held Clay's elbow asking for a word in private. Jax watched the men step aside for the chat as he pulled his helmet back on. He sat on his bike and gunned the engine, watching the men, suspicion rising in his mind. Alverez and Clay walked away with enough distance from their VPs so that they couldn't be heard. Sweat started to form on Clay's brow from the hot sun.

"Clay there's been a lot of AOM activity around here lately, word is they're looking to set up a charter in Oakland and Charming." Alverez paused looking at Clay. "They approached us, told us about some new charter, telling us to back the fuck down. The Mayans don't stand a chance against them Clay, but with the Sons, I'm sure we can push these assholes back" Alverez stood waiting for a reply.

Clay thought this over for a minute, the AOM moving in Oakland also, this was interesting. It was also dangerous. He thought with one charter in Charming a war could be won, charter against charter. A charter in Oakland was easy access to backup. He could tell Alverez was shitting himself, personally he was as well, any man would when Sal was involved, but he wasn't about to look concerned in front of the Mayan President.

"Brother we can handle them in Charming, no problem. Shit I feel we got it easy brother." Clay let out a deep chuckle. "Fucking pussy is running the Charming charter."

Alverez shook his head.

"Clay, their guys aren't known for being pussies, even the weakest of them is strong."

Clay chuckled again.

"Marcus, Angel Angelino is running the Charming Charter. Look, this deal with the cartel could be a huge payday for the club. I'll throw you a solid, we'll help you guys out with the Oakland guys. I ain't expecting much trouble from a fucking biker gash whore, brother" Clay puffed again on his cigar.

Alverez thought this over, Sal Angelino's daughter running the charter. Suddenly an idea formed in his mind.

"Clay when she finally moves into Charming I say we grab the bitch, bring her to an abandoned property we have, tie her down, use her for a couple weeks as stress relief for our guys, send a message to the Skull."

Clay thought about this and nodded his head.

"Well I'd _love_ to stick my dick in that." Both men laughed.

"Hey as club Presidents of course we should go first." Alverez remarked.

"Brother, we could make a sweet Angel sandwich." Clay patted Alverez's shoulder as both men laughed and made their way back towards the bikes.

Clay pulled his helmet on and took one last puff on his cigar before flicking it to the ground. He nodded at Jax.

"What was that about?" Jax asked arching his brow.

"I'll tell you when we reach TM" Clay started to laugh as he pulled his bike out of the Junkyard and headed back towards Charming.

Sal's fist pounded down on the mahogany desk like the hammer of Thor, his temples pulsating. The table was built very solid, but still a vibration in the wood could be felt by those seated close to him. The main five AOM Charming Crew members had been sitting at the round table for over an hour, along with Sal, and Angel. The tables shape was symbolic in many ways. While a head always had to exist in any organization the round table was to remind each member that they all had a voice that should be heard. That there was a mutual respect among them, a true brotherhood, and that a circle joined together was strong, unbreakable. The shape was also to remind them they were not a club that kept themselves inside of the traditional box, but unique, and definitely outside of the box thinkers. Sal hadn't started AOM to fit into a cookie cutter mold. He knew standard MC traditional like the Pope knew the fucking bible. If Salvatore Angelino had wanted his life to be traditional, he would have remained in position as youngest of three sons to one of the largest Mafia Don's in the States. No, Sal's goal from the beginning had always been to break the mold of tradition, fuck society rules, and create a club that marched to the beat of their own drum. He had successfully achieved that from the lack of racism his club displayed in both color, and sexuality, to the fact they had a woman wearing a club patch sitting in high position, right down to the God Damn round table they sat around.

"Mother fucker," Sal opened his fist pointing a finger at the man across the table; "I don't give a flying fuck what people think about my daughter being the President of AOM Charming. Just like I didn't give a flying fuck when I patched her into my New York Charter a few years back." Sal paused for a moment his cold black eyes narrowing as they glared at the piss ant President from some cock sucking Oakland MC. "Some attitudes don't do a 3 mother fuckin' 60 real quick, gonna be a lot of you fuckers going to ground." Sal sat back in the large full back black chair his eyes never breaking contact.

Angel sat next to Sal, eyes equally as cold resting on the average looking middle aged man who had come from Oakland on behalf of his MC to voice concern about her. Upon completion of her father's words Angel reached to her side removing her favorite hunting knife from its resting spot. God she loved knives, especially this one, which had been used to extinguish many human lives. Gently as if it were a fine treasure she laid the knife in front of her on the table. Angel's face no longer devoid of emotion as an eerie almost seductive smile slowly crossed her face. The man looked at her in shock as she winked at him before beginning to stroke the knife with her delicate long fingers as if it were his cock. She could feel her pulse quicken as her fingers continued to move along the top of the cold metal, then down to the textured area that fit perfectly in her hand when she held it. In a twisted way using the knife gave her a similar feeling as the mind blowing multiple orgasms she always achieved when fucking.

"Sal, I meant no disrespect," Angel could hear the slight quiver in the man's voice as he began to make pitiful excuses for his previous remarks. "We just felt it best to be honest about the word on the street. It's one thing in New York, with you by her side, but here thousands of miles away. Surely you understand the concern." The beads of perspiration began to break out along his forehead.

"We stand united, behind her." The words came not from just one masculine voice but all that were sitting around the table, the core of her Charming Charter. Clatter from the various weapons echoed through the room as they were placed up on table.

"Well, I would say we are fuckin'done with this conversation." Sal turned his eyes away from the piss ant for the first time acknowledging each of five AOM Charming crew with a nod before looking to his daughter, then finally back to the Oakland piss ant. The man was at a loss for words, and could only nod his head to show agreement, his concern for his life evident on his face. "Good, we have business at our new compound being built as we speak, and I would like to get my dick sucked at some point today."

The man continued to sit at the opposite side of the table paralyzed both physically and verbally. Angel could smell fear emitting from the man, just as one could smell the fragrance from a rose. She sat for a moment envisioning the knife cutting into his flesh, the ripping and tearing sensation her hand would feel. Her breathing quickened before she spoke the words that broke the awkward silence, a sexual undertone to her voice.

"That's your cue stupid mother fucker for you to get up, and walk the hell out of here while you still have both legs to do so."

"Please forgive my misinterpretation of the situation, and you Ms. Angelino. Our MC looks forward to business with both you and the future AOM Oakland Charter," For the first time in thirty years of riding with an MC the man felt like a fool, and a coward, asking forgiveness from a cunt. The bitch hadn't even bothered to accept his apology, hell she never even changed her facial expression. Instead she continued to glare at him with her deep blue eyes, and it was then he realized something in those eyes scarier than any man he had gone up against. Slowly he moved the chair back, and walked towards the door not turning his back to the round table, only breathing a sigh of relief when he was on his bike headed back in the direction he came.

Sal lit up a cigar as if he didn't have a care in the fuckin' world, which in all actuality he didn't. Shit he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt his daughter could squash the stupid piss ant in a New York minute. Why a few stupid mother fuckers decided to focus on the fact that she had a pussy rather than his blood coursing through her veins was beyond him. Deadly mistake he thought as he blew a puff of smoke towards the ceiling.

Once the man had scurried out of the room like a coward, Crash who was the VP of the Charming Charter turned his head to towards Angel. He could see that Mossie who was joining them to be the Sgt. at Arms already had his eyes directed on her. Angel could feel both sets of eyes upon her, no words were really necessary as she allowed a truly wicked smile to take over her cherry colored lips, but she spoke them anyway.

"In the ground you go, you stupid mother fucker, painful, and slow, painful, and slow…" The words escaped Angel's feminine lips filling the room as if she were singing a nursery rhyme.

Angel stood in the middle of Crash and Mossie as they exited the two story business building that had been temporary leased in Downtown Charming. She looked dainty and harmless between them with her long dark hair whipping in the wind as they walked to the curb where the Harleys were parked. Looks were truly deceiving in this case however, each man walking beside of her, like all the rest in the New York Charter had taken the time to teach her every skill they possessed. She was deadly in more ways then her striking appearance.

They paused for a moment in front of the Harley's and Angel looked at both men quickly. Crash was what she called a tall drink of water standing about 6'1' powerhouse build, brown hair, brown eyes, the man could kill, and the man could fuck. Mossie stood shorter in comparison to Crash only about 5' 10 but he was actually probably the more dangerous of the two. He was extremely lethal with both his hands, and various weapons, but especially his hands. He was what Angel called a well rounded man.

His features were more like Angels, dark hair almost jet black, and eyes so dark they were almost black as well. An ol' lady had told her one night they would make pretty babies. Shit, as if she was the type to birth anything out of her snatch, and then nurture it. Angel didn't know Mossie in the full biblical sense as she had known Crash on various occasions, but he definitely knew his way around a woman's pussy with his tongue. They were in what normal people would call the negotiating phase, but since her father had never taught her or the crew how to negotiate, their negotiations talks were moving slowly.

Angel stood at the curb humming the tune _Dad's Going to Kill Me_, because he certainly would if he knew, as she reached inside the pocket of her leather cut pulling out her avatar sunglasses, and a pack of smokes. Fuck it she thought why not let a little nicotine course through her veins for a few minutes. Crash waved his lighter in front of her after taking care of his own smoke. They weren't in any hurry let the stupid sawed off runt of a man get a head start. Let him think he had escaped deaths door, because soon enough he was going to be knocking on heaven's door. Angel loved a good game of cat and mouse, she knew soon he was going to feel her claws literally tearing his ass apart. Inhaling the smoke deep into her lungs she looked across the street, noticing a brunette and blonde in a heated conversation.

"What the fuck is that bull shit?" Mossie muttered the words before Angel had the opportunity to speak, he had very little patience for dramatic crap like what appeared to be unfolding.

"I don't know," Crash replied looking over at Angel and Mossie, noticing she had gravitated away from him closer to Mossie without even being aware. They looked right together, and he couldn't help but wonder if they were fucking as he glanced at them. "I know this, that brunette is Teller's Ol' Lady, Tara."

"Teller's Ol' Lady you say? The good Doctor Tara Knowles?" Angel smirked she normally wouldn't involve herself in such juvenile bullshit. Like Mossie she hated women with a flair for the dramatics. Fucking beat the shit out of one another already, but acting like a couple of damn bitches in heat was like nails on the chalk board. The mention of the woman being Teller's Ol' Lady however, raised her curiosity. "Well, I don't believe I have ever had the pleasure," She piped out stepping off the curb towards the women.

Mossie and Crash both looked at each other brows arched, taking in a deep breath muttering _Fuck me_ at almost the same time as each stepped off the curb following Angel across the street.

"…..you are a nothing but a whore, fucking Jax!" The brunette who Crash had identified Teller's Ol' Lady yelled into the blondes face, followed by a slap that snapped the bitches head back. Despite the outburst, and slap that followed, Teller's Ol' lady had a look of clean about her. Angel could tell she wasn't the typical Ol' lady. The blonde though just reeked of pure gash whore, and smelled of it as well, her cheap perfume lingering in the air.

Angel stepped up on the side walk beside the two females with a phony smile upon her face as she batted her eyelashes at them.

"Who in the fuck are you?" The blonde spit the words out, not only did she reek of gash whore in Angels' opinion, but needed to be taught a few manners. She quickly shut her bright red stained lips as Angel looked her dead in the eyes.

"Let me formally introduce myself, the names Angel Angelino." She turned from the blonde directing the words directly at Tara, allowing her last name to roll lazily off her tongue.

"You have got to be kidding me." Tara looked at her in shock, she had heard the name Angel Angelino from not only Jax's mouth, but Clay and Gemma's as well. Plus everyone knew the damned Angelino name in the medical world since their donations were very sizeable to a number of research foundations. Until this time though she had never set eyes her, Tara knew she was the same age as Jax, and she also knew they had a fling. Her face flushed with rage as she looked at the Angel then back to Ms. Porn Queen deluxe.

Angel placed the cigarette to her mouth one last time inhaling deeply before flicking it carelessly upon the ground.

"She _fuck_ your man, Sugar?" Angel smirked at Tara sarcasm dripping from her tongue. "I have had Teller's _cock _buried deep in my pussy. You want to slap me, _Tara_?" Angel intentionally invaded her personal space standing face to face as she spoke the words. She could tell simply by Tara's body language just another few more words would provoke the response she wanted.

"Honestly, he's like fucking a God Damn poet. Shit, don't know why all you California girls line up for him. Personally, me I like a man who can fuck, not recite pussy poetry bullshit to me between thrust. Get the fuck on it and off of it is my motto." She could hear the blonde behind her burst out in a laugh that resembled a cackle, as well as chuckles from Mossie and Crash who were leaning up against the building watching the show.

"You fucking Bitch!" Tara screamed in rage at Angel as she raised her hand to slap her across the face just as she had done the blonde.

Tara's hand never reached Angel's face before she stopped it dead with her own grabbing her around the wrist and twisting. The blonde's laughter now roared through the air, and Angel found it annoying as fuck, but her focus remained on Tellers Ol' Lady who was now down on her knees whimpering in agony.

"Jesus Christ, you women are pathetic." She really wanted to snap her arm like a twig, and would have except for the crowd that began gathering due to the shrieks from Tara's mouth. There was also the matter of the Oakland runt that needed carving up like a Christmas Turkey. Snap a twig or carve a turkey, the carving seemed more fun, she could deal with Dr. Knowles another time. Just as quickly as she grabbed her wrist she released it turned and walked away never looking back.

Angel, Crash and Mossie mounted their Harley's all three at the same time the hum of the engines drowning out the commotion taking place across the street. Strapping her helmet in place she looked up once more to see the blonde whore bouncing across the street in her fuck me heels.

"Damn sister, thank you so much for your help." She extended her hand with its ridiculously long fake nails out to Angel, but quickly dropped it when her blue eyes stared blankly. "My name is Ima by the way."

"I didn't do shit for your benefit." Angel huffed at her in an agitated tone crinkling her nose in disgust at the whorish outfit she wore. She hated woman who lowered themselves to service a man in such a manner. Sure they had woman around the MC, but shit they acted with a little more respect than these Charming whores.

"Ya know I have friends….." Ima spoke the words more to the men as she paused for a moment looking both over as if they were a tasty meal.

Recalling her father's earlier comment Angel really couldn't deny herself a little mischievous fun. "Sugar, if are you looking to make a name for yourself, why don't you go right through those glass doors behind me, and ask for Sal. Tell him Angel sent ya. You think you got what it takes to give service rides to AOM?" She paused letting out a hearty laugh along with the men. "See if you can withstand his _ride _first."

Angel didn't mutter another word as she placed her hand on the throttle of the Harley, and roared off in the direction of the Oakland runt.


	4. Chapter 4

Dramatis Personae

James 'Ozone' Chambers – AOM Enforcer

Author Note

Feel free to R&R

**_Four_**

Gemma Teller-Morrow pulled into town, as the three Harleys sped by, travelling in the opposite direction. She saw the riders were wearing cuts, but couldn't make out the club patches in the rear view mirror. Gemma briefly wondered if they were the reason Clay left the house so quickly that morning, visitors from another club. She had a few errands to run before heading into TM, and she better not find Clay welcoming some other MC by getting his dick sucked in some sort of biker orgy in the clubhouse. If she did there would be hell to pay and not only for the skank she found sucking his dick, but for Clay Morrow as well. Gemma would have no man including Clay make her look stupid in her town, he could get dick sucked on runs, but when he crossed Charming he best keep it in his pants. As she cruised along the street she saw Tara's new SUV parked, and an empty space next to it. Carefully she pulled her car into the empty space last thing she needed was to dent up another car. Slowly Gemma shook her head as she opened the car door and exited the vehicle, clicking the button to lock the car as she walked up to the store entrance, and that's when she noticed a small crowd gathered. She paused and took another glance at the crowd and saw Ima standing there, smiling, this caught Gemma's attention so she took a casual walk over to the crowd to investigate further. She found the people were gathered around Tara, tears coming from her eyes and holding her arm, which looked bruised, and swollen. Gemma barged through the small crowd of people and looked into Tara's eyes, then Ima's eyes

"What the fuck is going on here?" Gemma demanded to know.

The small crowd slowly started to move away, none of them wanting to tangle with the Queen on Charming, including Ima. Tara shot Ima a look, which for Gemma, was enough to judge the whore as guilty of something. Gemma reached out grabbing at lock of Ima's stringy blonde hair and pulled the woman toward her.

"What the fuck have you done you fucking gash bitch?" Gemma shouted and the crowds began to move back away.

Ima clawed at Gemma's hands, trying to free her hair from the strong grasp, wishing she had taken Angel's advice and walked through the glass doors, instead of coming over to taunt Tara.

"Let go you crazy bitch" Ima screamed.

Tara watching this started to smile a little, and then her face turned into a scowl. It had been one fucked up day from the start, first no time with Jax after fourteen months in prison, followed by running into Ima, and then the Angelino bitch. Anger coursed through her veins as she stood before Ima, locked in position by Gemma, and she let out her fury punching her in the face, blood splattered some of it landing on a ladies white shirt that stood gawking at the commotion, as well as Tara's hand, which now throbbed in pain. The pain only pushed Tara's rage further and she then hit her in the stomach, driving all of her breath out of Ima.

"You think _that _was funny? Well I think _this_ is funny" Tara spat.

Gemma watched Tara, thinking that Ima certainly deserved this, but still unsure as to what had occurred before she arrived.

"What happened sweetheart?" She asked Tara, finally releasing Ima and letting her drop to the ground.

Tara still looking at Ima, contemplated kicking the woman on the ground, but decided against it.

"Oh don't worry Gem, _she_ didn't get the better of me" Tara raised her gaze to Gemma. "We need to talk though. I think Jax and Clay may be in trouble"

Now she had Gemma's total attention, the woman instantly forgetting about Ima.

"_What_ kind of trouble sweetheart?" Gemma asked arching her brow in concern.

Tara took one final look at Ima then shook her head.

"Not here, have you got time to follow me back to mine?" Tara inquired.

"Sure" Gemma nodded.

Before Gemma turned to leave she stood on one of Ima's hands, then turned her body and headed back towards her car to follow Tara.

Otto Delaney sat in his cell in Stockton when a man covered the door. Up until now Otto had the privilege of not having to share a cell with anyone, partly due to a _suicide problem_, nearly all of his cellmates had encountered. This man stood there holding fresh bed sheets looking to _move in_. The man had a mean look about him with his shaved head and goatee; he had the look of a man with multi-ethnic background.

"I wasn't expecting housekeeping today, just leave them on the top bunk," Otto commented.

The big man stepped into the cell and threw the sheets onto the bunk, then stood staring down at Otto. Otto slowly looked up, he'd never noticed the man before, and guessed he was new to be so disrespectful. Otto stood up from his bunk and returned the stare. The man was only an inch or so taller than him, but he was still just a fish, new to the pond, and his intimidation _wasn't_ going to work on Otto.

"Don't worry. I won't fuck you, not tonight anyway." Otto told the man then smiled.

The man stared into Otto's eyes, not even blinking, and it barely seemed he was even breathing. Otto, determined to stare the man down mirrored the man.

"Boo!" The man suddenly boomed in Otto's face.

Otto jumped back startled, not expecting the shout, shit, this wouldn't do, now the man would think he feared him.

"I won't fuck you either, not on a first date, a first date I'll let you just suck my dick and tickle my balls," the man told Otto.

Otto stood as tall as he could and then stepped back toward the man, but his jump back in the first place was fatal, this man wasn't going to back down from Otto, not now. The man continued looking at Otto then slowly turned to the side and started to make his bed.

"When I make love to you, we should do it on your bottom bunk. We don't want to damage the frame by using the top bunk." The man told Otto casually as he dressed the bed.

Otto knew he needed to respond, if he didn't, he knew he'd end up as this guy's bitch.

"Brave words for a new guy, I'll let you take a walk around today, find out who I am, then we'll have this conversation later." Otto told the man, thinking his enquiries would change his mind.

"I know _who _you are, Otto Delaney, a member of the Sons Of Anarchy" The man turned from making his bed. "Let me introduce myself. I am James 'Ozone' Chambers, a member of the Angels Of Mercy MC." He watched Otto, noticing his face drop. "Changes are happening on the outside, I've been sent here to _look after_ you Mr. Delaney. At the moment, the change is good, which makes you my best friend" He carried on watching his new cellmate. "If that changes, you'll be my wife." He reached into his pocket and removed a lipstick tossing it over to Otto. "You'll then be required to wear that, the shade will suit you, it's dick suck red." Ozone returned to attending to his bed.

Otto felt his stomach knotting up, panic filled him, he'd heard of 'Ozone' and his reputation. He got his nickname from a way he usually extracted information. He would start his bike then force his victims face to the exhaust of the bike, choking them on the fumes until they decided to talk. Not everyone spoke and these people choked to death.

James 'Ozone' Chambers had been born and raised in Chicago Illinois. His father was Puerto Rican and his mother was an African American. When he was three his father was killed by a white supremacist group, leaving his mother to raise him alone. When he'd hit early twenties he joined the Chicago PD, he'd always wanted to be a cop. Ten years later he found a girl being raped and decided he couldn't arrest the man, so he shot him in the balls and watched him bleed out. The girl was grateful and a few days later her husband arrived to thank Chambers. The man was the President of the AOM Chicago charter. A friendship was struck up between the men. The Chicago President got authorization from Sal Angelino to take out the white supremacist group responsible for killing Chambers' father. Sal allowed this, as Chambers had helped the club out on numerous occasions. The charter arranged a drug deal with the gang and invited Chambers along. Chambers was handed a gun and given the opportunity to execute his fathers' killers, an opportunity that he took. Once he has done this he handed in his papers as he felt he could no longer serve as a police officer. The day after he left the police he was handed his prospect cut. He quickly became a valued member of the AOM not just in Chicago but also in other charters across the country. He joined the Nomads and travelled around helping out wherever needed.

Now he was stood in Otto's cell, threatening to rape the man if things didn't go well on the outside.

"What you in for?" Otto asked, trying to keep his voice level.

Ozone smirked before he started to laugh.

"You bitch." he continued to laugh.

"Just kill me already you miserable, bitch." The Oakland runt spit out at Angel as she sat straddled across his already bloody torso looking down at him with her deep blue eyes.

If his arms weren't broken he would have attempted to place them on both sides of her sleek neck and choke her to death. Instead he lay helpless trying not to scream in agony like a bitch for the last moments of his miserable fucking existence, his mind unable to process that a woman was about to end him. Charlie, the President of a small but respected Oakland Charter had always wondered how the end would come. He sure in the hell never envisioned his ending would be at the hands of an insane cunt. As much as he wanted to live, at this point he just wanted it to end. Charlie figured even if he did survive, which he knew that the possibility of Jesus Christ descending from the clouds at that very moment was greater than surviving, his legs were fucked up permanently. The shorter dark haired fucker had taken him off guard with the blows to his knees, followed by the larger guy beating him with a huge piece of wood that must have fallen from the surrounding trees. Oddly the wood resembled at baseball bat, Charlie found this ironic considering he was a huge fan of the sport. He had thought perhaps Mercy had been shown to him when they didn't follow immediately, but Mercy was just a word they used in mockery. There was no mercy, and this woman was certainly not an Angel.

"Look at me, Sugar." The words were almost a purr, and he thought for a moment how she almost resembled a black panther with her hair falling around her face, her eyes locked on him as prey. "Enjoy the look, because it will be the last thing you ever see." Those were the last words he heard, and she was the last vision he saw as the knife plunged into the corner of his right eye.

Angel could feel the blood rushing through her body, and her heart pounding heavily against her chest as she placed the knife in the corner of his eye. She pressed down piercing through the soft tissues until she felt that familiar pop, and then twisted the knife as she removed his eye from the socket.

"If thy right eye offends, pluck it out, and fucker you offended me!" Her tone was crazy, and demented just as it always was when she tortured and killed. The man's agonizing screams loud at first were now becoming muffled whimpers as her knife began its work on his left eye. When the task was done she carefully stood up, and removed her bloody leather gloves, wiping the knife against her already bloody pant leg, before placing it back in its home on her upper thigh.

"Is he dead?" Mossie casually the question directed to Crash who was bent over the bloody mess of a man to feel for a pulse in his neck.

"Naw, the fuckers still got a weak heart beat." Crash replied looking at Mossie with no emotion or shock on his face at what just occurred.

"Bury him alive." Angel interjected looking Crash in the eyes as she spoke the words, a smile of pleasure, and happiness upon her face as she glanced over at the bloody eyes which lay on the ground next to the man's head. They actually were a beautiful hazel color she thought to herself, as a feeling of peace washed over her. "Not his eyes though, put them in a small box and mail them to his club." She turned and began to walk back towards the road where the bike was parked.

"Head back with her, Mossie. I don't want her riding alone." Crash gave his MC Brother a nod as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. "I'll call a couple of prospects to get their ass out here, and dig a fuckin' hole.

Mossie returned the nod, and took off in the direction Angel was walking.

Tig Trager rode along a desolate stretch of road outside of Charming hoping the vibration of the Harley between his legs, and the wind on his face would clear his head. He had felt an itch in his damn crotch since seeing the Angelino cunt in the blockade which had greeted SAMCRO the previous day. Although he still found it extremely laughable a chick wearing a President's patch, he had asked around about 'Skulls' daughter after the Chapel meeting. Tig frowned as he remembered Jax's hand going up telling him "_not now brother_". He personally thought Jax was nothing but a fuckin' drag since he became a father, and the Doc had rolled back into town. Trying to juggle outlaw, and family the man clearly had his mind all tangled in knots, Tig wasn't the only one who saw what was happening. Luckily Opie had been a little drunk, and didn't have a stick up his ass, and shared a few details with him. Then his old man Piney really starting rolling out the details after half a bottle of Patron hit him, apparently he had known Sal Angelino for a very long time.

Tig hated to admit even to himself that he found it a little intriguing the bitch might be as sick, and twisted in her mind as he was. Sadistic visions of knocking the Angelino Princess off her throne to suck his dick, danced like visions of sugar plums on Christmas fuckin' morning. He was paying for his thoughts though in a huge way, his dick had been rock hard for the last twenty four hours. He had gone through three croeater's the night before, and still he was as hard as an elderly fucker pumped up on a bottle of Viagra. As he rounded the corner the smaller black Harley that he had seen Angel straddling the prior day came into his line of sight. Tig slowed his own bike and removed his sunglasses with one hand to see a little clearer. It was indeed the bitch's bike pulled off of the road parked discretely among the trees.

"Well, this just might turn out to be a suck my dick day." He muttered to himself pulling the Harley off the road as a cheeky smirk crossed his face.

Mossie couldn't take his eyes off Angels heart shaped ass, and small waist line as he followed behind her. He cursed Sal Angelino silently for putting them all in this position, fuck there wasn't a man in the club that wouldn't lay their life down for her. The older fucks loved her like a daughter, some even a granddaughter, and the younger men, like him, had an incestuous lust for her. Shit the MC Princess had each of them wrapped around her finger, controlling them like puppets on a fuckin' string, even her own father. He had tried his hardest to avoid being in this position, and knew he never should have agreed to take over teaching her to fight. Sparring with her was damn torture. All he could think about was burying his cock into that sweet pussy of hers. Then there were the damn games, she toyed with him constantly, he thought of the incident a few days earlier, Princess letting him get a taste of her then walking out leaving him with a hard on like a fucking teenage boy. Mossie wasn't accustom to any female turning, and leaving him in that manner, most of them were begging for it. Not the Princess though, and as if all that wasn't enough there was her fucking mouth, if it sucked cock as well as it could spit out verbal banter, Jesus Christ. Quickly he reached out grabbed her arm, and turned her around facing him.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Angel spat out as Mossie's arm spun her around his body pushing her forcefully against a large tree.

"What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck I should have done months ago." He spat back at her before kissing her roughly on the mouth.

Angel placed both hands on his chest pushing him back, "Maybe I don't _want _you, did you ever _think_ about that mother fucker? She glared at him but there was a glistening in her blue eyes that told him she didn't mean those words.

"Oh, you _want_ me, MC Princess." Mossie told her as he reached out tangling his hands in her dark hair pulling her lips back to his. Angel resisted the kiss at first, and he was about to give up when he felt her body relax. That was his yes, he deepened the kiss claiming her mouth with his own, not hesitating for a moment he began to free them from the clothing needed so he could claim the rest.

Tig couldn't believe his luck as he walked upon the dark haired man in the AOM leather cut, who was pounding the shit out of Angel Angelino. Her long dark hair was sprayed out wildly on the ground, her porcelain legs wrapped around the man's waist as he pounded away. Tig could feel his mouth water as he continued to approach quietly the bitches moans echoing through the woods, he reached down and rubbed his crotch soon her sweet little lips were going to be wrapped around his fuckin' dick.

The dark haired man never even heard him as he continued to approach, and quickly reached down pulling him swiftly off of the woman just as he was about to pound into her once again. The feminine moans of pleasure were replaced by a terrified scream as the weight was lifted away, and the man was removed from her suddenly.

"What the fuck?" Tig looked down at the dark haired girl with a look of confusion on his face. "You ain't Angel Angelino." He found himself starring into a beautiful girl's face whose features like her hair resembled the bitch in a way, but fuck this wasn't her. He turned his head to look at the dark hard man he had just pulled off of the girl, and could see he was barely even haired over. Christ probably didn't even shave yet.

"Shit, you ain't even a man." Looking at the cut closer he realized this wasn't even a patched member, but God Damned AOM prospect. "Well, I'll be a mother fucker you ain't nothing but a prospect."

"Listen, man me and my girl we don't want no trouble." The dark boy attempted to get up from the ground still somewhat shocked from what had just occurred.

"Oh, you got trouble alright." Trager swiftly kicked him in the ribs several times with the tip of his black riding boot until he crumpled up into a ball, his moans of pain filling the woods just as the moans of pleasure had been moments ago. He looked back at the girl as she attempted to reach out for her clothing, and cover herself. He inhaled deeply, licking his lips at the sight of her young her perky tits.

"Please…" She pleaded as she looked up.

"Please let my girl go, man." The dark headed boy spit out despite the unbearable pain.

"Your girl, did you say? Shit, man you're a prospect, you ain't allowed no girl." Trager let out a wicked laugh as he began to unzip his pants.

"What… What do you mean?" The dark headed boy knew he was fucked, not only had he snuck out Angel Angelinos main bike that was being serviced at the garage they had set up on the new property, but he had also snuck out a leather prospect cut. Shit he was just an 18 year old homeless kid, who knew how to do a little mechanic work. Sal had seen him digging out of dumpster, back in New York about six months ago and offered him a job. He had hoped to prospect for them eventually, but he knew if this biker didn't kill him, Sal surely would. The girl, shit she was just a poor little rich girl whose daddy was doing business with AOM since they had rolled into Charming. He figured she was just trying to shock her parents by hanging around with a bad boy. She didn't even know he wasn't a fucking AOM prospect.

"Listen, _boy_, I don't know how ya'll do it over at AOM, but at SAMCRO ain't no damned prospect allowed an ol' lady or girl. If they have a one, well she belongs to all of us. Sharing is caring, fucker." Trager let out a roar of laughter as he pulled his dick out, and faced the girl who was now wide eyed and shaking. "Don't worry babe I'll start out slow wont choke you the first few thrusts."

"Man please," The boy pleaded one more time, and knew he had to tell the biker the truth that he wasn't a prospect for the girls sake. He wasn't able to get the words out before Trager's boot kicked him again knocking the wind out of his lungs.

"Shit, you guys suppose to be badass here you are begging for this piece of pussy you ain't even suppose to be claiming as a prospect." Trager winked at the terrified girl with the perky tits, and then looked the boy square in the eye as he whimpered trying to speak. "Aw, I see you don't want to be left out. Well, tell you what I am going to do after she sucks my dick, I'm going to let you have a turn having my dick up your ass." He kicked the boy in the gut again with his boot before grabbing the girl by the hair thrusting his dick so hard into her mouth she began to gag.


	5. Chapter 5

**_Five_**

"That mother fucker is dead!" Mossie's outraged voice echoed loudly throughout the building that had been set up as the garage for the AOM members.

The Prospects who had been working on various bikes dispersed like rats on a sinking ship when they saw him storm through the doors of the back room. They didn't know all the details, but knew some major shit had been going down over the last two hours. First one the mechanics showed up with a girl both of them looking worse for the wear, and now the patched members were all gathered around on edge. One in particular who was presently storming past them, none wanted to be on the receiving end of his temper.

"Brother, you need to calm down the fuck down. We need to have a meeting, and decide on what the next move will be." John 'Smack' Doolin' stepped out in front of his MC Brother his 6'2" frame towering above Mossie, his dark eyes narrowed as he spoke the words with both genuine concern, and warning.

While most men might be intimidated by Smack, Mossie was not he didn't give a damn about the size of the opponent; they could be bigger than the incredible hulk for all he gave a fuck, especially when pure rage coursed so rapidly through his veins. That Tig Trager thought he was walking upon Angel in the woods outraged him, she was the President of the charter, but truthfully he was more outraged in a very personal way. The personal outrage he felt was the far more dangerous of the two for Trager.

"Get the fuck out of my way." He glared at Smack the anger apparent on his face, "If you don't I swear to God you will regret it, brother, friend, or not." Smack shook his head indicating he was not moving, and stood his ground.

Sal Angelino stood in the entrance of the garage his black eyes colder than usual, his stance as if it were ready to attack at any moment. He was not on bit fucking amused, and personally felt like marching over to the TM, and ripping Trager apart piece by piece. Like Mossie the idea that he thought he was approaching his daughter, pissed him off to the point he could only see the color red flowing like the River of Jordan. He was also boiling over at the fact Mossie and Angel had obviously disappeared off the radar for at least 2 hours. Sal wasn't a stupid man he could tell the moment they pulled up. It was Mossie's lucky day that this cluster fuck had happened otherwise he would be pounding the shit out of him at this very moment. There wasn't a man in any of the AOM Charters Sal couldn't flatten out in 5 seconds or less, especially when it came to his daughter.

Despite all the private shit that needed to be addressed, Sal knew the club shit needed to be first. He also knew they needed to vote, before any action was taken. Mossie clearly still had a good amount of blood rushing to his other head that was clouding his thought process. Sal, knew whatever course they decided on needed to send a direct message to SAMCRO that they weren't fucking around. Not only had Trager insulted AOM with his bullshit, but Clay and Jax had the balls to ask for a sit down. Sal wasn't sure what part of "t_his is not a negotiation" _they didn't get, but he was going to make sure it all got sorted so there was no further miscommunication. A scowl crossed his face as he thought about Tellers old man JT, fuck he didn't get a lot of shit either, and as a result he lost it all. From his chair Teller looked to be headed down the same path his old man was, conflicted and confused.

"You fuckers cut the shit, and get your asses over to the main building now!" Sal's voice sounded like an atomic bomb had exploded, and the prospects felt as if they needed to take shelter. Each remained in their place showing no signs of weakness or fear there was a zero tolerance for either one in AOM. The patched members including Mossie nodded at Sal respectfully as they headed in the direction of the main building.

Angel stood in the back room of the garage where the other members had just exited abruptly eyeing the small petite brunette girl who sat sobbing in the chair. Angel watched the tears fall from her eyes curiously. She didn't understand the concept of shedding tears in this manner, and couldn't really remember ever doing so. The girl appeared so frail, weak, and helpless; Angel simply couldn't wrap her mind around any of those emotions.

"You know Sugar, taking a .38 to the man's balls would probably make you feel a whole lot better." She whispered the words in the girl's ear softly, as her brown eyes looked into Angels blue ones bewildered.

"Angel, please she's terrified." One of the newer ol' ladies attempting to wash the young girls face muttered to Angel, unable to comprehend how someone could be so cold. She was fairly new only being an ol' lady about a year, and knew the entire MC thought Angel hung the moon. Honestly, their sense of devotion to her was confusing, it was clear looking into her eyes she was empty of any normal human emotions. The lady smirked unless of course Angel's eyes were gazing upon her father.

"Well, I was only trying to help her." Angel shrugged off the remark, and made note of the ol' ladies coy smirk as she stood up straight smiling down at the girl, "Listen, sugar you have two options in this life, one is to allow this incident to make you a victim over, and over again, the second is to take the bull by the horns, and let no one make you their bitch ever again. " She paused for a moment a sexy smirk crossing her plump cherry lips that were still tingling, "Unless of course you want to allow them the pleasure of making you their bitch."

The young girl looked up with her innocent brown eyes that Angel thought resembled a sweet animal, like a deer. Angel reached out, and stroked the young girl's silky hair; she could feel the bile rise in her throat from disgust, such a weakling. This girl would definitely be a victim her entire life. She turned to exit the room pausing for a moment, turning back to the brunette to offer one the last bit of advice.

"Sugar, if you ever want to learn to not be a victim you can find me here. Oh, and one suggestion if I may, a man puts his cock in your mouth uninvited again, bite it off. He will bleed out in no time at all, trust me." Angel gave her a wink before turning and walking out of the room. The young brown eyed girl was speechless, her mouth gaped open in shock.

"Take a mother fuckin' break guys." Angel chimed out at the contractors whose eyes turned in her direction as she entered the main building, and headed immediately to the back room which would eventually be the AOM Chapel.

She took in the room's presence as she entered the large wood doors with words Angels of Mercy hand carved in them; the walls of the room covered in a very expensive light colored wood. All that was needed for completion was the delivery of the round table, and a few pictures hung that were rich in the memories and history of AOM. For now even though the table was not present the patched members who held a vote were standing united in a tight circle at the centre of the room. Angel walked over taking her place beside her father. She looked around the circle of men the need for vengeance present on each face.

"It would appear we have had an interesting turn of events today," Angel spoke the words strong, and confident as if it were just another day's walk in the park as she lit a cigarette. "Mr. Trager has felt it necessary to send us a little welcome greeting of his own, and now we must return the gesture." Her eyes connected with each man starting with Crash who was on her left, and ending with her father who was next to her on the right.

"Trager needs to go to ground, now!" Mossie blurted the words out immediately his hands clenched in tight fist.

"Maybe taking Trager to ground first isn't the answer here. Perhaps we should send our message in a different manner." Jimmy 'Shades' Varron, the treasurer, looked at Angel with his steel blue eyes as he spoke the words.

"Perhaps, you might be right, is there is something that Mr. Trager holds dear to his sick, twisted fucking heart?" Angel put the cigarette to her lips taking a deep drag before blowing the smoke out, which hovered around her body for a moment like a thick fog.

"What the fuck? You have got to be kidding? Trager walks up on a couple in the woods, gave the girl a good mouth fucking which he explicitly indicated was for Angel while doing it, gave the guy an ass fucking, again voicing very clearly it was intended for Angel, and we are standing around in a circle jerk talking about not taking him to ground ASAP?" The angry uncontrolled outburst from Mossie turned every head his direction including Angel's, a scowl appearing on her face as she looked him directly in the eyes.

"Brother, we are simply talking about presenting Trager with an appetizer before dinner. He will pay the price for what occurred today, not because the girl it happened to really matters, but because he clearly thought the attack was going to be against our President." Crashes brown eyes narrowed as spoke the words looking at Mossie dead on, using every ounce of his control not to tackle him to the ground. He knew Angel had been put at risk today because of Mossie's uncontrolled lust. He could smell Angel all over him when they entered the room.

"Fucker needs to go to ground now, and you know it, Crash. What would have happened if Angel had been caught off guard?" Mossie recognized that Crash was struggling to contain himself simply by his body language. He figured he would ice the cake, and gave him a taunting look that could only be interpreted as "_bring it fucker."_

"Well, it's a good thing she had you riding along with her today." Crash spit the words out sending his own hidden message, "_if you feel froggy, jump fucker,"_ before looking at Angel briefly. "Will admit I was a bit concerned when all this shit rolled up. Hell, I was able to have the prospects dig a hole, bury the Oakland fucker, and arrive back here before the two of you."

Angel surveyed the room quickly for the men's reactions to the conversation taking place, including her own fathers, each were growing tired of the pissing contest going on in front of them, and frankly she couldn't allow such an event to take place, ever.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Angel's voice filled the room as she stepped into the middle of the circle pulling her knife from her side. "The next fucked up word muttered from either of you two,"  
Angel turned to look at Crash first a stone cold expression upon her face as she pointed her knife at him, before turning and giving Mossie the very same expression. "I will put you both in the fucking ground myself. Am I clear?"

Neither man answered for a moment then Crash answered, and nodded his head indicating he was clear, Mossie stood there looking at Angel, the rage evident on his face. "AM I FUCKING CLEAR?" Angel walked over closer to him the knife still present in her hand.

"Crystal!" He spat back at her. She wasn't completely satisfied with his sarcastic remark, but decided she would deal with him in a more private setting.

"Now, the way I see it we have an issue that needs voting here, do we head straight to dinner, or serve an appetizer first?" Angel looked at each man briefly before she spoke the next words still standing in the centre of them. "I say appetizer, followed by a hearty main course. We need to serve up a few items, make sure everyone has a taste." She nodded for the vote to start with Crash.

"Serve him a fuckin' Appetizer first." He spoke the words his brown eyes locking with Angel's intense blue ones for a moment, before looking to Jimmy who stood next to him.

"Fuck yeah, Appetizer, make him suffer." A smirk crossed his face as he spoke the words, and gave Angel a nod, and playful wink.

The vote moved onto John "Smack" Doolin who stood rubbing the day old dark brown stubble on his face, before running the same hand through his cropped dark hair.

"I like a little foreplay," He let out a hearty chuckle his dark brown eyes fixed on Angel, "Appetizer first."

Smack then turned his head to the next in the circle of men Gino 'Ginger' Nicoletti who was the road captain. He was older in appearance than the other men his hair sandy brown, eyes blue, presence just as powerful, and impressive as the others present.

"I am a main course man myself." The right corner of his mouth raised slightly in a half smile as he spoke the words.

All eyes turned to Mossie whose vote was next. Angel glared at him intently hoping he understood from her eyes she would not tolerate another outburst.

"I don't believe in pussy footing around the damn bush. I say take the fucker to ground before the sun sets on the horizon." Mossie's dark eyes locked with Angel for a moment hoping she understood he wasn't going to be her personal play toy, before turning his head to Sal.

Sal stood looking Mossie in the eyes, like Crash he was fighting the urge not to beat the fuck out of him.

"Ok, then its settled we serve Trager a little pre-course first." Angel smiled as she thought of how much fun she would have teaching Trager a lesson. She knew with the exception of Happy he was the only fuck who would possibly fit in with their crew in terms of the horrific actions he was willing to commit. His little comical stunt this afternoon proved just that. None of the other SAMCRO crew would have ever pulled that shit, especially solo. From the stories she had heard, and observations she had made from afar his mind was pretty sorted. She dug that, fuck her own mind was pretty sick, and twisted. Angel looked forward to a little face to face time with Trager in the future.

"Angel, what do you want to do about the boy?" Crashes words interrupted her very wicked thoughts.

"Make him comfortable, like we did the Oakland President." She looked around at all the men stopping at Mossie, "Does anyone have any other suggestion for the boy?" As she looked around the circle all nodded in agreement of his punishment. "So, Mossie, Gino, you two make the boy comfortable. Smack you and Shades figure out what the appetizer is, pronto. I want it to be something with meaning." She threw her cigarette down on the floor stomping it with her boot. "Crash will you take that damn girl home once the ol' ladies get her cleaned up?" She could feel her stomach rumble as she spoke the last words, seemed talk of food, killing and the vigorous workout in the forest had worked up her appetite. "Jesus fucking Christ can someone check to see if there is there anything to eat around here?"

Angel watched as all men nodded in agreement, a few chuckling at her final remark before exiting the room through the door in which they came. Mossie was the last to leave, looking back at Angel momentarily before slamming the door loudly on his way out. Angel looked from the door to her Daddy O whose black eyes were already glaring at her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Six**

A week had passed since Tig had raped the boy and girl in the woods, and both clubs having very little contact with each other, both simply biding their time. Tig had spoke with Clay about what he had done, and the SOA President wasn't pleased one bit about the unofficial business he had taken on without club ok. Once again the club could be in deep shit due to Tig's lack of dick control, there were days that Clay Morrow was truly tired of the bullshit, and this was one of them. After a little thought on the matter Clay decided the best approach was to keep this from the rest of the members, knowing that Jax would be livid at what Tig had done, and possibly several of the over members who respected his step sons opinion.

When Tig expressed concern about them finding out anyway, Clay reminded him that the guy more than likely wouldn't tell anyone, since announcing you were fucked up the ass wasn't exactly the badass image AOM expected from their men. The girl hell she was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he didn't expect her to tell anyone either in order to preserve her family high society name. Tig agreed with this, feeling both relief, but also a dissatisfaction. On one hand he was relieved that AOM wouldn't know what he had done, as he knew immediately after committing the acts he had fucked up, and their retribution could be bad for the club. On the other hand he wanted them to know, he wasn't someone to be toyed with, and that he had literally, fucked up a member of their badass club, and that he was prepared to do the same to Angel if given the opportunity.

After feeling he had stomped out yet another potential fire that Tig had almost ignited, both Clay and Jax met with the cartel to discuss the deal with supplying guns. The shock came when the drug transportation was put on the table. Jax wasn't happy as the two things SOA had always steered clear of were the drug trade, and selling pussy. Clay needed this deal, he told Jax how he wanted to leave the club, step down, and spend the rest of his days with his Gemma, away from Charming and all the bullshit. Jax appreciated that, as he also had plans to leave the club behind, and attempting a normal life Tara and the boys. When he told Clay of this Clay seemed disappointed. Jax clarified that he needed to live a normal life for the sake of his kids, that he didn't want them following in his footsteps. Jax agreed to vote in favour of the drugs as long as when the time came Clay voted in favour of Jax leaving the club behind.

The vote for the Cartel dealings was mixed, with the vote going in favour only by one vote. This was new territory to the Sons and most of the members were cautious. One of the biggest problems posed was the Cartel were insisting on a long term commitments, which meant the Son's couldn't just end the deal whenever they felt like it. They would have little control over their fate, which for them was an unusual move for them to make. Once Chapel had commenced, and the decision made by vote, Clay called Romeo to tell him the news and arrange an immediate, and much needed a sit down with the Irish to confirm the supply of weapons.

Unfortunately the sit down didn't go particularly well due to the bad blood between Jax and Galen O'Shay, a member of the Irish Kings. Galen O'Shay thought Jax Teller to be an idiot, with no head for business. Jax Teller thought O'Shay to be a self concerned piece of shit, simply camouflaging this fact as if he was all about the _cause_. The meeting ended with a fist fight between O'Shay and Jax, with O'Shay delivering a beating to Teller. As O'Shay walked away cocky as a peacock Jax cursed him under his breath, truth was he had allowed the victory, Jax Teller wasn't the idiot O'Shay envisioned, but rather a forward thinker. His thought on the matter was simple it would aide in gaining the supply they needed. _ Let him have his day for now, _Jax thought as O'Shay strutted away knowing _his _day would come as he tasted the is own blood oozing from his lip.

Roosevelt made his presence in Charming known to both SOA and AOM. When he was assigned he was fully briefed on SOA, but the AOM arriving unexpectedly on the scene was a new threat he wasn't totally unprepared for. He had heard about AOM's reputation, and knew that them being present wasn't in the best interests of Charming, finally coming to the conclusion he should do his best to run the MC out of town. Roosevelt knew he needed to play it carefully as he didn't want to appear to be Wayne Unser Jr., keeping the competition at bay for the Son's. The deputies that he had requested were all in place now, and everything was set for his war on crime in Charming.

Following Angel's confrontation with Tara in broad daylight in the centre of downtown Charming, Gemma and Tara decided it best not to tell the men about the incident. After listening when no one thought she was around Gemma realized there was extreme tension brewing between the clubs. She also remembered AOM from past years, and knew their presence could be detrimental to her end game plans. The last thing either woman needed was their man confronting AOM and ending up behind bars again, or worse yet dead. Gemma reassured Tara she would handle Angel Angelino, and leaving no doubt in the daddy girls mind who the toughest bitch in Charming really was. Angel already had one strike against her as far as Gemma was concerned for past encounters that concerned her son, Jax.

The sun was shining brightly in the clear sky and on the hot afternoon in Charming. Clay and Tig sat in the black van unmarked van, watching the entrance of a tattoo parlour. The business had just been bought by Sal Angelino, and already it was swarming with AOM members. There were several bikes parked outside against the curb, mostly red custom Harley Davidson models. The one that the men were watching however, was the black chrome covered Harley that belonged to Angel 'Princess' Angelino. Tig placed a cigarette between his lips and lit it, watching the smoke escape through the open passenger window.

"Man, I can't wait to stick my dick in her plump little mouth," Tig spoke the words before taking a deep pull off his cigarette the excitement apparent in his voice, "Shit, man those plump lips have gotta feel good around a dick."

"Brother, you'll be able to stick your dick in every hole that bitch has got," Clay laughed loudly, thinking to himself it should be an interesting show at the very least.

Clay's attention was quickly diverted from Tig's sadistic smile as he observed the main muscle of AOM exiting the parlour, without Angel in tow. They watched as each man mounted their bikes, started the engines and rode away. Clay turned his head to Tig, a huge grin covering his face.

"Someone upstairs _wants_ us to snatch this bitch, can I get a big _A-MEN_ for the man upstairs brother," he glanced through the windscreen towards the blue sky.

Tig nodded his head, slowly reached his hand down and grabbing his dick. The men didn't have long to wait before they saw Angel exiting the parlour, her back turned to the men as she mounted her bike. Tig's mouth watered as a vision of him mounting her went through his head.

Clay started the engine and carefully pulling up behind her before coming to a stop, both men leaving the van together. Angel hearing the footsteps looked over her shoulder, a smile crossing her face; she got off her bike and turned facing the Clay Morrow and Tig Trager. Angel's cold intense blue eyes showing no signs of fear as they glared, she noticed Trager's eyes roaming over her.

"You guys looking for some AOM ink?" She asked in a cocky tone, eyeing Trager as she spoke the words, "You pick we _stick_, fucker," A wry smile crossing her face as she spoke the words her eyes never breaking contact.

"You're coming with us doll," Tig told her as he reached out to grab her arm.

"Is that right, sugar?" Angel laughed mockingly at the men.

Clay quickly removed a 9mm handgun from his leather cut pointing it directly at her, yet she still stared back at him with no fear upon her face.

"Just get in the van cocky gash bitch," he aimed the gun towards Angel's stomach agitated at her lack of response.

The turn of events that followed were both quick, and totally unexpected. A big forearm came from behind Tig and wrapping around his throat. Tig unable to register what was occurring as he was then dragged across the sidewalk, feeling the excruciating pain jolt threw him followed by a crunching sound as his face was smashed into the brick wall, his nose becoming a bloody pulp. Before he could even react to what had already occurred, Tig was thrown to the concrete sidewalk and the sound of a 9mm hammer being pulled was heard, as the barrel was placed behind his ear, his arms pulled swiftly behind his back and a cable tie placed around his wrists, locking them into place. Tig felt himself being rolled over and pulled from the concrete, his eyes widened when he saw his attacker was Sal Angelino. The big man slammed him against the wall, cracking sound echoed loudly, and Tig screamed out as the pain coursed through his body. With his arms tied behind his back the force of being thrown against the wall broke one of his arms. Sal turned his attention towards Clay as he placed the gun in the waist of his jeans.

"Put the fucking gun away Clay, you and me, man to pussy, that's what you are right, a fuckin' pussy?" Sal mocked the SOA president as his daughter stood in the background an eerie laugh escaping her lips.

Clay felt more fucked than a man being gang raped in a prison shower, kidnapping Angel Angelino had been a risky plan he knew, but actually getting caught in the act, by her father Sal was worse than burning for an eternity in hell. Clay swallowed hard, cursing the Mayan President for even putting this hair brained idea in his head, as he locked eyes with Sal. Shit, it sounded as if Sal was only looking for a fight, but Clay wasn't sure if he could take him. Even his army skills weren't enough to guarantee victory, Sal was not only a mean son of a bitch, but a gigantic man with a muscular frame larger than even Clay. He was known for his fighting skills, and also for the fact there wasn't a man he couldn't take down. Clay felt what was about to happen to him would make the beating Jax received from O'Shay look like a bitch slap.

Replacing the gun back into its shoulder holster beneath his cut, he then turned to face the Sal Angelino, hoping the fear he felt in the pit of his stomach didn't show upon his face. Clay took a few paces backward, placing him in the middle of the road, as Sal took a few paces forward, and the two men locked eyes and circled. Sal so angered his breathing almost sounded as if he were growling at Clay. The street was quickly becoming crowded as people passing by stopped to watch the confrontation, neither man noticing, as they continued to stand in a face off.

"You shouldn't have tried to fuck with my daughter," Sal said the rage emitting from him.

"Yeah, I should have just shot the bitch," Clay said then smiled as he glared back into Sal's cold black eyes.

The words were enough as to provoke the first punch as Sal's gigantic fist flew out and hit Clay's jaw, causing him to stagger backwards. The punch stunned him, and he never saw the next blow coming. A fist slammed into the left side of his face, dropping him to his knees. Clay turned his head just as a boot connected with his stomach, knocking the breath from his body, he rolled onto his back. Sal approached Clay and crouched down, grabbing his hair and pulling his head up.

"Your guy there fucked a kid in the ass, and mouth raped a young girl, claiming he was on official SOA business to send a message to my daughter. I'm gonna bring you and him out back of the parlour there, call the guys round, make some love to you and Tig over there, then I'm gonna call my guy in Stockton, have him make sweet love to Otto morning, noon and fucking night. Then I'm gonna call on that sexy wife of yours, have her suck my dick, lick my balls, cum all over those big juicy tits of hers. Then I'll let the young guys fuck her, and fuck her, and fuck her, until that pussy of hers is the size of the grand fuckin' canyon." Sal slammed Clays head back onto the road as he finished the words, and turned from him.

Seeing the only opportunity he had of escaping the ass fucking of a life time, Clay reached out and grabbed at Sal's legs catching him off guard he dropped the mammoth size man to the pavement. Quickly to not lose the small advantage he had gained, Clay turned his body and climbed on top of Sal.

"How about I fuck you right here in the street mother fucker," Clay screamed in rage.

Wrapping his large forearm around Sal's neck he tried to squeeze, but Sal's strength, and skills were far greater. Sal let his elbow fly back, hitting Clay's ribs, and causing the man to release his not so iron grip. He then turned onto his back and let his fist fly, breaking Clay's nose as the punch connected, and another loud crunching sound echoed throughout the downtown streets. He rolled again and was on top of Clay, as he started to pound the SOA presidents face without mercy.

The roar of the sirens filled the streets as the sheriffs arrived on the scene and two deputies jumped from the vehicle attempting to pull Sal away from Clay. Finally after much effort they succeeded in pulling him to his feet. Sal shook one off as if he were nothing but a piss ant and turned and smashed his head into the face of the second deputy. Roosevelt seeing the scene was quickly getting out of control pulled his gun and aimed it directly at Sal Angelino.

"Enough!" Roosevelt shouted prepared to fire his gun if needed.

Clay coughed, blood escaping his mouth like a water fountain, as he raised his head and saw the sheriff looking at him.

His gun still on Sal, Roosevelt said to both men, "you're both under arrest, for disturbing the peace."

Angel stood on the curb, and watched as the sheriff cuffed her father. No, words were utter just the contact of his black eyes meeting her blue ones, and a swift nod of his chin. He knew as they led him away she would know what to do. Even though time in jail had never been an issue for him with so many officials on the parole, Sal Angelino had left nothing to chance when it came to Angel and AOM. Slowly as they placed him in the back of the patrol car along with Clay Morrow, she hit the speed dial on her cell phone.

"Yeah," Crashes voice came across the speaker of the phone.

"I need you back here, pronto." No other words were uttered from her mouth as she quickly hung up the phone, and watched as the patrol car pull away.


End file.
